


With Two, You Get Spring Roll

by Shadowplay



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-05-15
Updated: 2000-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowplay/pseuds/Shadowplay
Summary: It's Friday, after a very annoying week for Mulder.





	With Two, You Get Spring Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

With Two, You Get Spring Roll by cdavis

Title: With Two, You Get Spring Roll  
Author: cdavis   
Beta: MoonShadow, my guiding light. And thanks to Xanthe for the nudge.  
Date: 05/11/00  
Pairing: M/Sk  
Rating: NC-17.  
Summary - It's Friday, after a very annoying week for Mulder.  
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. They belong to CC, Fox & 1013\. 

* * *

With Two, You Get Spring Roll  
by cdavis

It had been one of those weeks. The kind that made him want to stand on the roof of the Crystal City apartment and scream "I am not a number, I'm a free man!" Nothing had gone right starting on Monday when his partner dropped an open container of evidence - which happened to be dime-store quality perfume - in his car. Tuesday he had barely re-qualified in hand-to-hand at Quantico, and had the bruises to prove it. On Wednesday he discovered that Accounting had changed his department code and had not seen fit to inform him - until they returned three months worth of paperwork to be resubmitted. It continued like that through today. Friday. A day he was just getting used to looking forward to. 

Today he had spent three hours standing in several lines and dealing with many surly people and still hadn't gotten his driver's license renewed. They didn't care that he was still recovering from being pepper sprayed in the face the day before - that just wasn't their problem. He had failed to read the miniscule bottom line of type and that was that. It all made him exceedingly grumpy. 

He hadn't felt like cooking and he hadn't felt like dealing with the smell of someone else cooking and he hadn't felt like stopping to pick anything up. At least Walter hadn't given him any shit when he'd told him to stop for some Chinese take-out on the way home. But it was nearing seven-thirty. Now he was hungry and grumpy.

By the time the sound of the door opening and closing alerted him to the fact he was no longer alone and the aroma told him that dinner had arrived, he was a very irritable Special Agent. Sounds came from the kitchen. After what felt like an eternity, a red and white cardboard carton was handed to him along with a pair of chopsticks. He opened the container.

"It's vegetable fried rice," Mulder snarled, poking at the mixture.

Walter nodded, settled on the couch and prepared to eat. "That's what you said you wanted."

"I hate vegetable fried rice."

"I know."

"Then why did you get it for me?"

Walter decided this was a no-win situation and continued to eat his dinner.

Mulder stared at the man seated next to him balefully. He didn't want what he had. He wanted what Walter had. He wanted everything that Walter had.

"Walt?"

"Hmmmmmm?" Water inquired around a mouthful of succulent shredded meat and green peppers.

"Take your clothes off."

"What?!"

"Get naked."

"I'm eating here, if you don't mind."

"Now."

Walter eyed his food and then eyed his lover. One would heat up well in the microwave later and the other wouldn't. With a resigned sigh, he placed his unfinished meal on the coffee table and got up. After divesting himself of his clothing, he looked at Mulder expectantly. When all he got back was a hooded stare, he sat back down, picked up the carton again and resumed his meal.

Mulder gazed at the work of performance art next to him and grinned, showing almost all of his teeth. He knew that look usually made people nervous but he wasn't sure why. Still, sometimes nervous was nice. He drew his legs up and knelt on the couch and then advanced cautiously. When he was close enough, the reached with his chopsticks and selected a string of beef.

"You're just after my food," Walter accused.

He grinned even wider, then placed the end of the morsel between his lips and angled his head in invitation. 

"Or not," Walter amended, and leaned in to take up the other end and nibble his way to Mulder's mouth.

When warm, spicy, lips met his, Mulder caught Walter's lower lip between his chopsticks and pulled it forward. He sucked the lingering flavors from the trapped flesh until sounds of encouragement were exhaled against his mouth. He released and pulled back.

"I don't like vegetable fried rice, Walter."

"I know."

Mulder let his gaze travel down to the broad chest and his chopsticks found another place of purchase. He pinched a nipple between the two pieces of wood and stretched it away from the furred chest. 

"I like to sink my teeth into meat," Mulder explained and he zeroed in on his target.

Walter made a noise in back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a whimper and there was a squishy noise from the carton as it was compressed by his hand.

Rather than going in for the kill face on, Mulder turned his head to the side and closed flatter surfaced teeth on the yielding flesh and settled in for a little gnawing.

Walter closed his eyes and let his head roll back. His chest muscles twitched as nerve endings were surprised into action. Just as he thought he couldn't take any more he whispered "Fox...," and dropped his chopsticks to the cushion to stroke the back of Mulder's head, but he wasn't fast enough and his tormentor drew back. When he opened his yes again he followed the other man's line of sight and found it settled in his lap. His move to pull his knees together was stopped by an assertive hand.

"A spring roll would have been nice," Mulder commented as he maneuvered off the couch to kneel between Walter's legs, "with a little duck sauce for dipping." He gently pinched and raised the hardened cock with his utensil. "But I see this comes with a white sauce," he smirked before he bent and took the leaking head between his lips.

Walter couldn't stop himself from scooting his hips forward on the cushions. He had given up regretting any sweat or other sundry stains that might mar the leather. He didn't believe Mulder's assurances that they added to the uniqueness of the piece and that in time would give it a wonderful aged and lived-in look, but sometimes it was just better to go with the flow. He wanted to grab the other man's head, or at least give him some instructions about speed and intensity, but this definitely wasn't the time. Instead he concentrated on bringing air into his lungs and tried to hold back as he watched his lover run the show.

When the chopsticks left their position on his cock, he didn't have long to wait until they found a new place to squeeze. He couldn't believe that little squeaky noise had come from him.

"Lychee nuts for desert?" Mulder grinned up at him before diving down.

He had to close his eyes as the contact of a hot, wet, tongue preceded the feel of plush lips on his balls. And he let out a long, low, groan as the flapped bottom of the container he was clutching gave way and dumped congealing ethnic cuisine on Mulder's head. He immediately dropped the carton and clamped both hands over his mouth to keep from laughing. Biting into the heel of his hand seemed to help.

Mulder felt something land on him and had no illusions about what had happened. However, he was not going to let that stop him. He finally had things under control and he wasn't going to give that up. He could even feel Walter's stomach muscles jumping and knew that he must be getting close. Abandoning his teases, he deep-throated his lover and sucked long and hard until he familiar bitter, viscous fluid shoot down his throat.

"Sorry about your dinner," Mulder said as he looked up from Walter's crotch. 

"Don't worry about it," Walter assured and picked food out of Mulder's matted hair with still trembling fingers. "I think you need a shower."

"I think you're right." He got up unsteadily with his hands on his head, trying to keep the food damage area contained. "I think you do, too. What didn't land on me landed on you."

Walter swept what he could into his hands and followed his lover into the bathroom. After some advanced grooming behavior, the food solids ended up in the trashcan and what could be re-liquefied went down the shower drain as they washed each other.

"By the way, there's an order of cashew chicken for you in the fridge," Walter informed Mulder as they dried themselves off. A large hazel eye peered at him from under a towel.

"I love cashew chicken."

"I know."

END


End file.
